


Gleipnir

by The13thBlackCat



Series: Songbird [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some bindings are stronger than chains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gleipnir

   Fenris stared down at the cloth on his lap and ran his fingers over it, trying not to think too hard.

   _He should return it._ He knew that. It was Sparrow's, and he might miss it.

   The elf ran his fingers along the edge, the cloth soft and sturdy between his fingertips. It was a buffing cloth, meant for Sparrow's daggers, and this one, the red, was his favorite. Or, at least, it was the one Fenris had seen Sparrow use the most, brushing it across his daggers' blades with almost loving reverence. For a split second, Fenris felt...jealousy?...and wondered why, but then it was gone.

   He hadn't meant to take it. He'd been waiting for Sparrow to wake, and it had been on the nightstand. Without really realizing it, he'd found himself playing with it to distract himself while Sparrow slept...much like he was now.

   He folded it neatly, first into a rectangle, then into a square. His fingers brushed it flat, then unfolded it again. It was slightly crumpled now, and Fenris thought he liked it better that way. Somehow, it felt more...right. Natural.

   _He should return it._

   Even now, Sparrow might have noticed its absence, might be remembering when he'd last seen it, in Fenris' hands, being tugged and folded and unfolded again.

   Fenris swallowed, folding it once more, corner-to-corner. In a moment it was a tidy triangle.

   _Returning it meant going back._

   Worse, it meant acknowledging the night it had disappeared, and what had caused Fenris to leave the Hawke estate so suddenly that he hadn't had time to realize he still held it. And he wasn't certain he could bear to bring that up.

   He unfolded it again, smoothing it out across his thighs, and for a second he remembered Sparrow's fingers brushing across his thighs in a very similar way. He felt his face heat and swallowed. His fingertips brushed something raised on the cloth's edge, and it saved him from remembering too much.

   It was a bird that had been embroidered into the edge. It was small and black and not a hawk; instead, it was a gentler kind of animal. A songbird. It almost certainly hadn't been on the cloth to begin with, and Fenris wondered idly who had added it. Leandra seemed most likely. Or Bethany, perhaps. Selene didn't seem the sort, and Fenris doubted Sparrow had added it himself.

   He stared at the little black sparrow, brushing a fingertip over it. He folded the cloth again, swallowing.

_Perhaps Sparrow wouldn't miss it at all. He had at least half a dozen others, in black and grey and muted color._

   But only one in red, bright and vibrant and beautiful instead of dull, like a piece of the man it belonged to.

   Fenris smoothed the cloth out, into a rectangle. He sighed softly, and when he laid his hands down, the cloth was soft against the underside of his wrist. Soft except for the small black sparrow, raised and smooth. The elf's ears flicked and he just stared.

   _Sparrow probably hadn't even noticed it was gone. He probably never would._

   Without really meaning to, Fenris folded the cloth across his wrist, tying it tightly enough that it wouldn't slip, the tiny sparrow pressed snugly against his skin, safe and secure and _his_.

   He raised his hand, turning it, then held it to his chest, his other hand closing around the cloth protectively.

   _His._

   Sparrow could never be that. But _this_...this, perhaps, could be. A piece of him.

   And that thought eased the quiet ache in Fenris' chest, a little. _His._

   _Sparrow would probably never notice, anyway._


End file.
